COUSIN MARIA & THE MARRIAGE BED

This story is an excerpt from a larger work, but decided to post for Anecdote Tuesday since Cousin Maria made an appearance. :-)

Thanksgiving dinner was usually at my mother’s house and one year I found myself practically falling asleep post-dinner, succumbing to the itis. I walked into my bedroom; my absence was unnoticed by my family since they were engrossed in round two of turkey dinners, pecan pie, and pina coladas. Two minutes later I emerged wearing a sweat suit. Immediately, my cousin Leah started laughing hysterically and asked, pointing to my ensemble, “What is that you’re wearing?”

“What? My sweat suit?” I asked, surprised.

“You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re going to the gym on Thanksgiving.” Before I could respond, Cousin Leah continued, “If anyone should be going, it’s me. Relax yourself because those fitness instructors are out eating turkey too.”

While she had a point regarding the gym, Leah was also five feet two inches and two hundred pounds. Since she had misconstrued my sweat suit intention, I made an attempt to clarify the situation, saying, “Hello! I’m not working out. I’m getting ready for bed.”

Raucous laughter from my other cousins ensued, encouraging Cousin Leah to continue. “In that? You’ll sweat to death!” she said in between gasps for air.

“Excuse you. I happen to get cold at night,” I explained. “And since it’s almost 10 PM—my usual bedtime—my body is ready to feel the warmth of the sweat suit.”

“You don’t have a comforter?” Cousin Leah asked.

“I’m anemic,” I defended. “My doctor said so.”

“If you’re still cold wearing that sauna suit, I’d say you’re sick. It’s a wonder you didn’t melt away yet.”

Soon after, my mother joined the impromptu roast on my behalf adding, “She sleeps in that outfit every night—with the hood on her head. I keep telling her that when she gets married, she can’t sleep like that. She’ll have to wear a little teddy.”

“Or nothing!” Cousin Marie squealed, simultaneously getting up to high-five my mother and other cousins. “Me nevah wear nothing ahtall ahtall to bed wid me husband and we me have plenty fun, gyal!” she added.

“First of all, this is an inappropriate conversation, especially on a holiday like this. My virgin ears are bleeding,” I said.

“Gyal, bedroom talk is nevah inappropriate. We di try give yuh some tips to tantalize di mahn, but yuh di talk foolishness ‘bout virgin,” Cousin Maria said. “I mean fuh sey, how old dey now? Yuh nevah been wid ah mahn yet?”

I was mortified.

Chiming in, Cousin Leah added, “We are all family giving you advice. Good advice. I’m listening too,” she said winking.

“Second,” I continued, ignoring them, “No one uses the word ‘teddy’ anymore Mommy. That’s so old school.”

“You knew what it meant, didn’t you?” my mother countered laughing.

Undeterred, I said, “I have no intentions of going to bed naked when I’m married. While you all are running around in silky negligees—and let me tell you silk doesn’t breathe as well as cotton—or just naked, my husband will have to find me within the folds of the sweat suit.” I laughed at my own wit, proud to defend the sweat suit and happy that I’d cleverly come up with the latter part to support my statements.

“Find you? No man has time to find you when he wants nookie at night. Keep that up and you’ll get divorced quickly!” my mother said.